If Anyone Would Hear
by Morning. xx
Summary: Ten words that no one ever said to Severus Snape. Snape/Lily Translated into Russian by Mournsong. Posted with my permission on the Russian Hogwarts . net.


Halloooo everyone!

I'm back from my two-week vacation, with three notebooks full of story ideas and actual stories. Prepare yourselves for a _wall_ of Morning-fics :D.

Now, down to business. A line from a movie got me thinking, it's from "Mr. and Mrs. Smith". Angelina Jolie says 'And there's a space that just keeps filling up with everything we don't say to each other' (I've most likely quoted it wrong, but that's basically it). So, what don't we say to each other? What don't we say to the ones who hide in the shadows, and hope that you can't see them? To the people who hide in plain sight? Nothing at all. This is my homage to Snape, because he is such an amazing character, and because I know what it's like to hide in plain sight.

On a happier note, I do not own Harry Potter.

On another happy note, here's the story.

(PS. If anyone knows Snape's real birthday, please tell me in a review!- Thank you to both The Clown Queen of Spades, who told me on MSN, and to Rileyluvr13 for correcting me. It's the 9th of January.)

(PPS. And also, if you spot any mistakes, or changes in tense, etc, tell me in a review.)

* * *

**(if anyone would hear)**

**ten things no one ever said to Severus Snape**

_x. "What's your Quidditch team?"_

(He would have answered enthusiastically, and some emotion other than scorn would come onto those waxy features. He tore the Daily Prophet open every day to the Quidditch section, and he would study the articles carefully. A black quill took note of the positions in the league every morning, and each time, the Paris Phantoms had a little star beside them. He would have debated the best seekers, and chasers with anyone, and on a long-lost piece of parchment somewhere, he had compiled the best team, from the best players.

But no one ever asked.)

_ix. "Merry Christmas!"_

(Every twenty-fifth of December, he would wake up slowly, at Hogwarts, oblivious to the shouts of joy. At home, ears didn't pick up on the drunken snoring through the paper-thin walls. As a teacher, it was quiet.

Hogwarts saw him take the bundle from the bottom of the bed, and quietly open the one present in it, saving the red yarn, and the card bearing the signature _Lily_. It was almost always something that she had made herself, with her needles and yarn. She wasn't too good a knitter, but she loved making things.

Later, as a teacher, he would put on his robes, and sweep down to the Great Hall like he always did. Because Christmas was just another day, as an adult. Albus would always pull a cracker with him, be merry, and tipsy teachers would roar with laughter.

At home, before Lily, the drunken snores were his present. After Lily, there was a shy little knitted bundle in his hands.

And no one ever, in the haze of goodwill and happiness, said it.)

_viii. "Thank you."_

(Severus never held open doors, or dove to pick up fallen books, and quills. He never helped anyone across the street, and never asked if anyone was okay when they were crying. He never said it, was never taught to say it.

So no one ever said it.)

_vii. "Good morning."_

(Every day of his life, he heard those words. But they were directed at someone else.

Minerva would come into the Great Hall, and settle on Albus's other side, all the while smiling the two words. Filius, perched on his many cushions, gave a hearty rendition of the phrase. Albus himself only nodded as he took his place and drew the bowl of oatmeal towards him. Every morning, it was just a nod, or a casual look.

When he was younger, sitting at the Slytherin table, engrossed in an old manuscript, people would settle beside him, keeping their distance while digging into bacon and eggs. Nobody at that green, silver, and black table would have been caught dead uttering those three syllables to anyone.

Walking the halls of the Malfoy Manor upon waking up, there wasn't a single masked face that looked up, and said the two words.

So no one ever said.)

_vi. "Want to play?"_

(As a child, Severus would determinedly sit in the sandbox, and build himself a castle, where no one would shout, or be angry. No hand would swipe his face, and leave an angry purple bruise. No voices would shout "Oi! You! Get out of my flowers!" when he hid from louder voices. This was heaven, this was _Hogwarts._

And while he played by himself in the sandbox, no other chubby-handed toddler, or laughing five-year old would come and offer a plastic shovel, or a proper bucket. Four hands didn't press the wet sand into fabulous childish shapes, and stick leaves for windows and doors. Twenty fingers didn't push sticks here and there, making better towers. And after, two children didn't stand side by side and survey the castle, saying "Job well done."

All because no one ever said.)

_v. "Happy Birthday!"_

(Each year, on the ninth of January, he would take a seat at a table, and eat his breakfast, eyes scanning everyone's faces, looking for eye contact, and a little smile.

As a young boy, he never knew that birthdays were supposed to be a good thing. It was just another day until Hogwarts, and he would mark it off on his calendar, and count down to that one day.

At Hogwarts, he learned that birthdays meant presents, and happy relatives shouting two words, and pushing presents on him. Friends were supposed to give him 'Birthday Beats', and he was expected to retaliate with a smile, and happy laughter.

Lily knew his birthday, and smiled each time, handing him a box with a wool bow. She never said the words, but gave a present each time. In a box in his office, there was a neatly organized cue of wool ties, and they smelled like her. The boxes were under his bed, sending them smell up to him as he slept.

Albus knew the date too, and would smile, shaking his hand, and hand him a plate of cake each time. It was always vanilla, and it was never too soft, or too hard. It was always perfect, and he ate one piece every year.

But still, no one ever said.)

_iv. "A kiss goodnight?"_

(This simple question begged to be lilted out by a Cupid's bow mouth, under a shapely pert nose, above which, green eyes would sparkle mischievously.

His thin lips never felt the brush of another on top, never felt heat surge in passion as seconds fell into minutes.

His hands never held a smaller pair, stroked the cream-scented hands, and clasped goodbye.

His arms never held another body close to him, and his nose never smelt the sweet floral shampoo that she used from this position of something more than friendship.

All because, no one ever said.)

_iii. "Don't do it, it's dangerous."_

(There were moments when the words wafted intangibly though the air. They brushed past lips that never said anything, never kissed goodbye, around arms that never hugged, never protected. No one ever stopped him from walking into that dark room and getting that skull and snake on his arm.

No one ever said.)

_ii. "You're a brave man."_

(His ears craved to hear these words, to revel in the praise.

None of the skull-and-snakes ever clapped him on the back after a dangerous mission and said it. Their eyes only glittered through their masks, lusting for the blood that dripped from his robes, and for the cold praise that the high voice sang maliciously.

Albus Dumbledore never told him that, when he came back from a meeting, damp with rain. Albus never shook his hand with that statement, and led him to a seat where he could rest, basking in the sun those words would throw off.

No one ever said.)

_i. "I love you."_

(He has imagined voices saying these three words to him. The three, soft, kind, sweet, _impossible_ words never came to his ears directed at him.

His mother's harsh alto never said them lovingly, but instead, spat out as insults at the drunken, unshaven man who gesticulated with the beer bottle in his hand.

Tobias Snape never took his son on his knee, and played horse with him, laughingly saying it over Severus's happy laughter.

Lily Evans never said the words on their moonlit walks, they were too busy discussing and debating. They would laugh, and the echo of the unspoken words would flicker behind in the breeze. After another word came out of his mouth, Lily's sweet flame faded.

He whispered the words to the darkness, wondering if anyone would hear them, and say them back. But no one ever said.)


End file.
